


Black Eyes, Sinful Hips

by kittenofdoomage



Series: The Mark [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Dubious Consent, F/M, Female Reader, Hallucinations, Hardcore, NSFW, Oral, Reader Insert, Restraint, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Voyeurism, dub con, sex in public, sex with an audience, strip club, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-19 22:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5982451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is one of the star attractions at “The Mark”, an exclusive club you’ve just received a guest invite to from your friend Josie. Of course you’re going to go, and one Friday night, you head out, only to find fantasy and something darker lurking beyond the red hallways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Black Eyes, Sinful Hips

_There’s a club on the outskirts of South Dakota that no one knows the name of until they’re invited. It’s a club for anyone to go to, but it’s exclusive and you have to be invited by someone who’s been a member for at least a year. Membership is pricey, and that’s only if they accept you after your guest invitation._

_The building looks like an old warehouse from the outside, but inside, it’s luxuriously decorated. The long hallway at the front door looks like it could go on forever, the sensuous red walls reflecting the spotlights from the ceiling, and the soft black carpet under foot is meticulously kept. As the hallway opens up onto the first floor of the building, the bar is the first thing you see._

_It’s mahogany, and manned by three men, all of whom was dark haired, tall and clean shaven. They don’t wear an awful lot – the majority of them have aprons around their waists, with sensible boots, a bow tie around their necks, and tight boxer shorts, revealing the perfect curves of their asses. They don’t wear shirts – and they like to choose their own scented oils, knowing for tempting the customers into giving generous tips._

_The rumours about the club are wild, and there are so many women and men who want in. Of course, getting in is a difficult process, and one of the lasting whispers is that sometimes when you get in, you don’t come out again._

_Cain, the club owner, is a rich and well known man, and he’s a pillar of the local community. But he’s also intimidating, and no one likes to approach him – not that anyone would know how. He is a meticulously groomed man, with long hair and a beard, and is always with a different woman on his arm. He never married – another rumour that he’d lost a wife, which had hardened him._

_The club is open three nights a week, and there is never a queue outside. Members are ushered in quietly, and there is no pounding music that you would expect from any other establishment. The bouncer is a large, quiet man, who sits at the door, not speaking, only inspecting the plain red membership cards with the odd shaped “7” symbol on it._

_Some people refer to the club as Hell’s Strip Club, purely from the rumours of those who attend. It’s a hot spot of sin, and some of the previous guests can’t even remember what got them so flustered, and it’s rare for anyone to remember the name beyond the funny little symbol. All they remember is flashes of black eyes, strange feelings and complete and utter satisfaction._

_Josie Sands, the most recent employee of the club, is surprised when she’s presented with three passes. She’s never been to the club, but she’s told that as a new employee (she’s only doing the books, and she’s only there during the day), she gets three guest passes for one night each. She can keep them for herself or give them to friends. Being a devout woman of the church, she declines to use the passes herself, opting to pass them to her sister and two of her friends._

_They’re excited of course._

_Who wouldn’t be, when they’ve been handed a guest pass to “The Mark”?_

* * *

 

The card didn’t even have the name on it, just a strange little seven shape and an address, with “Guest” written across it in red shimmering writing. Josie had given it you, insisting that you’d love it, and telling you to burn it if you didn’t go. You had a month to use the pass, or it wouldn’t be valid.

And you had to go alone.

If that thought on its own wasn’t intimidating enough, she’d told you not to show the card to anyone. Of course, you’d told her the night you were going, so she knew where you were, and if you didn’t check in the next day, she’d know there was a problem. When you’d said that to her, she’d laughed and asked what could possibly go wrong. It was just an exclusive club, drinks and entertainment. You’d make friends in no time.

She didn’t mention that she’d never actually _been_ herself, that she spent six hours a day in the office upstairs. She’d been shown around the empty club room, and that was it.

Every one in town knew about the location, and just how _exclusive_ the place was. Members had to pay a pricey fee to get in, and that was only if they were accepted in the first place. No one even knew what the club was called, and members were tight lipped about the entire thing.

The owner was a business man known around town only as Mr. Cain. He was a recluse, by most of society’s standards, living in a gated mansion way outside of town. But he had his fingers in most of the pies round the area, and although you’d never seen him, you’d heard enough stories.

The card had sat on your nightstand for eight days, before you finally decided that life was too short not to take a chance. Besides it was just a club, and you’d be missed if you didn’t turn up sooner or later.

Settling on the Friday night, you picked out a little red dress from your closet, praying it still fit after sitting there unworn for months. You chose a sensible pair of shoes, styled your hair how you liked it, and left your legs bare, being that it was quite mild for this time of year. Shrugging into your faux leather jacket, you picked up your purse, and headed on into town to catch a cab.

The driver gave you a dubious look as you gave him the address, the guest card almost burning in your jacket pocket. ‘You know they don’t let just anyone in there?’ You scowled and sat back, ignoring his nonchalant shrug, and not acknowledging him for the entire twenty minute drive. It took everything you had not to throw the cash at him as you climbed out, heading across the street to the large building, with its shuttered windows and low lighting.

There was no line outside, just a single rope between two metal poles, and a bouncer who looked like he was half giant. His shoulders were wider than the door he stood in front of, and a grim look was on his face, his earpiece disappearing down his neck into his suit. With a nervous swallow, you stepped up to him, holding out the card with a shaky hand.

He peered at it, before leaning over without a word, unhooking the rope to let you past. You stepped into the building, looking around. Ahead of you was a window, like the ones they have at the bank, with a petite woman sat behind it, her hair jet black and her eyes down. To the right was a door marked “Staff” and to the left, a long corridor that seemed to stretch on for eternity.

'Well, hey there, sweet peach.’ The woman behind the booth noticed you, smiling up. 'Is that a guest pass you have there?’ You nodded, sliding it along the wooden shelf in front of her. 'Oh sweetie, nothing to be nervous about.’ Her smile was oddly unnerving. 'Just relax. I’m Meg, by the way. I’ll need to take your jacket, and your cell phone.’

'Why my phone?’

'We don’t allow anything with a lens in here, sweetie, and every phone has a camera these days.’ Meg grinned, leaning back a little. 'It’s your choice. You can leave your things, or you can just leave.’ With a heavy weight settling in your chest, you handed over your purse, and Meg checked it for anything else. Removing only your phone, she returned the purse, giving you another sweet yet terrifying smile. Your jacket was next over the counter, and Meg returned your guest pass, directing you towards the long hallway. 'We’re not very busy tonight. Hand over your guest pass to the bar, and drinks are free. They’ll change up bills for singles.’ Your thoughts echoed the word in wonder. _Singles?_ Meg hung your jacket up, and you waited, thinking she’d give you a token or something. 'I’ll remember you, don’t you worry, sweet cheeks.’ Her smile was on the brink of wicked as she spoke.

She waved you off, returning to whatever she’d been doing, and you inhaled nervously, stepping away from the booth. You glanced back at the open door, where the bouncer still stood, motionless. Shrugging it off, you started the walk down the hallway, marvelling at the black plush carpet and the red walls that seemed like they were either out of a porno or a horror movie.

A low beat reached your ears as you headed down the hall, and you recognised the song off the radio, but didn’t remember the name. Coming to the end of the hallway, it turned ninety degrees to the right, and you paused as you saw an open door with a man stood just beyond, a tray of drinks in his hand, and he….was half naked, save for a little apron, a bow tie and boxer-briefs. He had shoes on but…mostly naked.

You suddenly understood Meg’s comment about singles.

The man turned and smiled at you, offering a champagne flue.  You took one, needing the courage as you finally started to take in your surroundings. There was a high ceiling, with one of those disco balls suspended, white lights playing across the pitch black walls. The carpet in here was the same material as the hallway, but blood red. There were ten tables in various places, and at the far side of the room was a stage, empty of anything.

Your head felt a little fuzzy almost immediately, and you turned, seeing the bar to your right. Heading over to it, you looked up, just as another half-naked barman spotted you.

'Guest pass?’ He asked, and you wondered just how many of the people here were guests like you. You nodded, handing over the card and he gave a friendly smile. 'What can I get you, sweetheart?’

'Er, I’ll have a…’ Shit, you didn’t even know what to drink. Something strong. 'Whiskey on the rocks?’

The barman nodded, still smiling as he poured your drink and passed it over. 'We’re quiet tonight. Can I suggest table number three? It’s close to the stage.’ He pointed down to the centre, and you turned your head in that direction before looking back to his helpful expression. 'There’s a silver tag with a number on the top of each table.’

'O-okay.’ You stuttered, and he nodded, before moving away. You turned, surveying the rest of the room. There were about eleven other people in here, mostly women, and all looked very well-to-do. There was a middle aged gentleman sipping a tall glass in the corner, and the music was quiet enough that you could hear the conversation between two ladies sitting at the table closest to you.

'I hear that Samuel is not performing tonight. Which is a shame. But we have the twins, and that luscious older brother to look forward to.’

Oh god, what kind of club was this?

You slipped away from the bar, picking a table at the back, way away from the stage, unlike what the bartender had suggested. The stage was lit, but still empty and you sank into the shadows, wondering what the hell you’d gotten yourself into.

Ten minutes later, the music picked up, and someone emerged onto the stage, looking around at the crowd. He was tall, thin, with long hair and a beard that could only be described as glorious, and carried himself with an air of royalty as he took in the patrons.

'Hmmm. Quiet night.’ He said, a small smile pulling at his face. 'I can see familiar faces. Mrs Lindt.’ One of the middle aged women raised her glass to the gentleman, and you shrank back further into your chair. 'Mr McLeod. Nice to see you again.’ There was a glint of humour in his eyes, and then suddenly they were on you. 'And…new faces. Hello, Y/N.’

You swallowed, your saliva feeling like needles. No one turned to look at you, but you froze anyway. How the hell did he know your name?

'Enjoy your evening. I assure you, you will find it _most_ enlightening.’

And he was gone, back into the shadows. The music got louder, and you drank the whiskey on your table to try and cloud your anxiety. A barman brought another over and you smiled at him gratefully, trying to ignore the way your hands were shaking. The lights on the stage focused onto one spot as three guys walked on, all dressed in red suits. They started to dance in tandem, and you found yourself mesmerised by the way they moved.

At the point they started undressing, you looked away, for about three seconds before your eyes drew back, taking in the chiselled bodies, the astounding attractiveness. In fact, the dancers on the stage, and the bartenders and hosts, were all impossibly good looking. It was like you’d stumbled down the rabbit hole into a room full of Abercrombie and Fitch catalogue models, all of them half naked and making you slobber.

Squirming uncomfortably, you watched as the three dancers emerged from the stage, stripping sensuously as they dispersed into the crowd. The smaller of the three, a blond guy with startlingly dark eyes, went over to the gentleman in the corner, and started to dance around him. Your cheeks flushed hot with shame as you watched, feeling the moisture pooling at the juncture of your thighs. The gentleman didn’t move, but he watched with sparkling eyes, the obvious erection in his pants prompting you to look away.

The second dancer, a dark skinned man with abs that could not have possibly been real, started to move against the two middle aged ladies at their table. He ground down onto one of them with his ass, pressing his face close to the other.

What the hell was this place? It didn’t seem like any ordinary strip club. These guys were practically fucking the guests!

The third dancer, a tall guy with long dread-locked hair and spiralling tattoos wound around his body, had completely disappeared. One of the table previously occupied was now empty, and you swallowed, tightening your grip on the whiskey tumbler in your hand, unsure of what to do. Your fight or flight instinct was leaning towards flight in a spectacular fashion.

The lights on the stage snapped off, and the club was silent for a moment. You could hear distinctly feminine groans across from you, and you wondered _exactly_ what was going on. Your lips were dry, and you started to feel a little panic, sat in the dark room with only the odd sparkle from the disco ball suspended above you, not showing anything but a glimpse of the debauchery you’d found yourself in.

Music started to play again, a slow, seductive beat that you didn’t recognise. There was no singing, just a plethora of instruments that made your heart beat in a specific rhythm. Lights focused on the stage, one blue and one red, and you noticed a large mirror had been revealed at the back of the stage.

Another man in a suit, this one dark blue you thought, walked onto the stage, but he didn’t seem like a dancer. He stood with his back to the audience, looking in the mirror and you stared, seeing his smirk reflecting off of the shiny surface. Something shimmered, and you blinked, unsure if what you’d seen was real.

His reflection had changed, to him slamming his fists into the mirror, even though his actual body hadn’t moved.

What. The. Fuck.

Standing up on shaky legs, you glanced around, spotting the ladies bathroom sign and bolting, ignoring one of the hosts as he questioned if you were okay. Once inside the relatively normal bathroom, you shut yourself in a cubicle, panting heavily.

What was this place?

The question had been doing the rounds in your mind ever since you’d walked through the front door, and you knew deep down that leaving was the best answer. The safest answer. This place was dangerous, you could feel it in the pit of your gut.

Problem was, you knew you wouldn’t leave. The truth of the danger you were in the midst of, warred with the curiosity you felt, and you couldn’t leave without _knowing_. You had to know.

Taking a breath and holding it, you turned, pressed one hand against the cubicle door, your nose against the wood as you gathered your wits. You’d left your purse on the table, but even so, Meg had taken your phone, so you couldn’t exactly call or text anyone.

Pulling the door open, you moved to the sink, leaning heavily on the marble surface and watching your reflection in the mirror. For a second, you saw your own wide eyes, pupils expanded in the dim light of the bathroom, your face flushed and a little sweaty. And then something happened…

Like a shimmer, your face smirked back at you, eyes almost glowing as you gasped and stumbled backwards, closing your eyes. When you opened them against, you saw yourself, normal and frightened, your hand clutching your chest as you stared into the mirror.

'Miss?’

The voice made you jump and you turned towards the door, hearing the concerned male voice.

'Is everything okay?’

'Y-yes!’ You called back, trying to calm your heaving chest. 'I’m just powdering my nose.’

'Okay, Miss. The main show is starting soon. I didn’t think you’d want to miss it.’ The voice sounded like it was worried but there was an undertone you couldn’t quite place. Like the main show was _meant_ for you. As if you missing it was the worst thing that could happen.

Slowly, you turned, trying to forget what the mirrors had shown you, your shaky hand gripping the door handle and slipping out of the restroom. The club was dark again, but there was enough light to find your way back to your table, just as a host came over with a fresh drink, and a bonus glass of water. He smiled, winking at you. 'Everything okay?’ He asked, and you nodded, giving him a nervous smile. 'The show is about to start.’

Your eyes darted to the stage, and it was then you noticed that the gentleman and the blond dancer were gone. The two middle aged ladies were gone too, leaving you with only a handful of other people, their eyes riveted to the stage as the first beats of “Bad Company” started playing. The abrupt change from the rhythm and bass tunes that had been playing before made you pause, and you kept your gaze on the darkened stage.

A red spotlight landed on the curtains, but nothing happened, and you leant forward, as the first verse played out. Your curiosity was peaking as you waited, and when large warm hands landed on your shoulders, you jumped, looking up to see the most devastatingly handsome man you’d ever laid eyes on, looking down at you with a filthy smirk. He was wearing a dark red button down, with black pants, and his eyes were a piercing candy apple green that you felt burning into you with desire.

'Who are you?’ Your throat was dry as hell, but he didn’t reply, pulling you to your feet, walking backwards as he led you towards the stage. The curtain opened, showing a long gurney-type table in the middle, low to the ground, and you didn’t fight, almost in some kind of stupor, as the attractive man led you to it, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit in the middle. He stood back, still smirking at you.

The red light shining on the stage, obliterated the view of the small crowd, but you were spellbound by the man in front of you as he started to rotate his hips to the music. He wasn’t leaving the spot, his hands running down over his chest, over the red shirt as he practically fucked the space in front of you, the bulge in his pants showing just how much he was concealing under those clothes.

A movement to the side of the stage caught your eye and you saw the tall gentleman from before, with the long hair and beard, stood by the curtain for a second before a warm hand slid under your chin and pulled your attention away. The man with the stunning green eyes was frowning, shaking his head.

'You keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t matter what else is going on.’

'Who -’ You started to repeat your early question, only for him to lean forward a press his full pink lips to yours, fusing your entire body with heated arousal.

'Don’t ask questions.’ He muttered against your lips. 'Just enjoy the show. It’s all for you, Y/N.’

You nodded, your mouth hanging open as he stood back again, slowly unbuttoning the shirt, walking around you on the table. Your dress had ridden up a little, exposing your bare thigh to the cold metal surface where you sat, but all you could feel was the burning sensation from between your legs. You didn’t think you’d ever been this wet in your life.

The green eyed man circled you, slowly pushing the shirt from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor as he stood behind you, before he climbed onto the table and slid his hands over your shoulders, down to your breasts. He kept on top of the clothing, but his touch wasn’t any less sensuous for it as he lowered his mouth to your neck and sucked – _hard_.

A moan pushed its way from your throat and your fingers tightened around the edge of the table, your eyes falling shut at the sinful feel of his tongue on your skin, leaving bruises along the column of your neck before he exhaled next to your ear.

'If you need to scream a name, it’s _Dean_.’

Dean. Fuck. Green eyes had a name, and you wanted to say it then and there. Instead, you sucked in a hard breath, before feeling him pull away, disappointment rising in your chest as he did. The music changed, still sounding like the same band, but a different song you didn’t know. Dean’s hands landed on your shoulders again, leaning you back onto the table. As your spine hit the cool surface, he dragged you upwards so you lying fully on the table.

As Dean moved out of your line of sight, it was unclear what was going to happen, but fuck if it didn’t turn you on more. You looked to either side, seeing nothing, but hearing a few moans in the audience, and somehow you knew Dean was doing something provoke that.

Suddenly, the table moved, and you were lying along the stage instead of across it, the red light still obscuring your view out into the room. Not of that mattered as Dean blocked everything, leaning over your face to trace his fingers over your arm. His pants had gone, leaving him in the _tightest_ pair of black briefs you’d ever seen, and fuck, he was hard, twitching against the confining fabric. Glancing up to his eyes you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, drawing a predatory smirk from him.

The green of his eyes was gone, along with the whites.  As he smirked at you, all you could see was pitch black pools.

It lasted less than a second before he turned away, the music getting louder and filling your head as you felt him all around your body on the metal table, unsure of what he was doing. Fleeting touches brushed against your legs, your arms, your thighs, and it felt like the room was spinning. With a groan, you relaxed, surrendering, your arousal begging to be sated, but you couldn’t even think about lifting your hand to satisfy the need.

Strong hands pushed at your thighs, and you felt someone, _Dean_ , climb onto the table between your thighs, his body moving against you at the same pace to the thump of the music, his hardness brushing against your core with every thrust. You wanted it so bad, wanted him to rip away your clothes and have you, right there, make you scream for the people watching.

You had no idea what had gotten into you. This wasn’t like you at all; this carnal display of voyeurism with a man you only knew the first name of, in a club that had your head so turned around you were _seeing_ things. Fuck. Who was he that inspired such _heat_ in your veins?

'Dean -’ You cried out, hearing an answering chuckle, his body lying flat against yours for a brief moment. His lips ghosted over your mouth, before the weight shifted and you felt hot breath against the fabric of your panties, directly over your clit. Before you could even react, your arms were pulled up above your head, and something slipped around your wrists, binding you to the table. A cry left your lips, and hands hooked under your knees, pulling your legs up.

'Such a beautiful sight.’ Dean’s voice was throaty, piercing through the music as if he was in your goddamn head. 'All hot and bothered, soaked to the core.’ He chuckled darkly, and you groaned as a finger ran over your slit through your wet panties. 'Did you think this would be innocent? Coming here with no clue what you were walking into?’ The finger left, and he gripped your panties, sliding them over your ass and down off your legs. 'This is where your darkest fantasies come true, sweetheart.’

You squeezed your eyes shut as he traced your hole with his finger, before pulling away once more. 'You taste fucking delicious.’

 _Can I say no? Can I stop this?_ Your mind was racing, scared of what could happen, and you weren’t sure if you’d spoken your thoughts aloud.

'Say no, and you’ll be home. Safe. Untouched.’ He sounded like he didn’t like the idea of you saying no to him, but that he wouldn’t force anything you didn’t want. 'I’m not going to hurt you. I’m just going to ruin you for other men.’

'Oh god -’ You gasped, as his weight settled over your thighs, his tongue running along the top of your sex, barely touching your clit, but causing enough sensation for you to buck against him.

'God’s not welcome here.’ He grinned, and those black eyes burnt into your mind, as he bent his head, lapping at your clit with his tongue flat against you. 'Do you want to refuse this gift?’ You shook your head, clenching your fists despite the restraints, whimpering as he smiled against your cunt. 'Good girl.’ His tongue licked you again, before he moved further down, his hands pushing against the underside of your thighs to open you up wide. There was no thought of the public setting, the people sitting there in the audience, watching this man tongue you into submission. You didn’t care, and you were probably going to hell for it.

'Shit, uh, fuck -’ The curses fell from your lips easily as Dean slid his tongue into you, thrusting lazily but giving enough friction to stoke the fires in your belly. You wanted to cum so bad, but you were sure he was stalling, edging you on to beg for the release. His nose pressed against your clit, and he panted against you, fucking you with his mouth until your body was quivering from the need. 'Dean!’

'You wanna cum? Right here? On this stage?’ Your nod was enthusiastic, and you managed to open your eyes, looking down to see his black ones staring back at you.

Not a hallucination then.

Dean smiled, returning his mouth to your pussy, his tongue delving into you once more, his fingers sliding from your thighs to stroke the sensitive skin around your cunt. You moaned and twisted your hands in the restraints, wishing you could satisfy the urge to run your fingers through his hair and drag him up further, giving your aching clit the attention it begged for.

As if he read your thoughts, he dragged his tongue from your hole up to the sensitive bundle of nerves at the top of your slit, sucking it into his mouth hard and you were gone. With an intense scream of completion, you came, your hips held down by his strong hands as he kept sucking and nipping at you, prolonging the pleasure as long as he could, your juices slipping from you and onto the table.

He didn’t even give you time to breathe before he was moving up your body, sheathing himself inside your pulsing walls without a moment to think. The sudden penetration was enough to send you over the edge again, crying out nonsensical gibberish as Dean bent his head to bite at your breast though your dress. It hurt, but the pain only added to the pleasure turning you into a puddle of mush underneath him, and as he started to move against you, pulling out his long, thick cock before slamming into you again, you could only imagine that you’d died and ended up in Heaven.

Because if this was real, you were certainly going to Hell.

This stranger, this gorgeous specimen of masculine perfection, was fucking you on a table in the middle of a stage, drawing noises from you that no other man ever had, or ever would, his cock hitting all the right places, stimulating your sweetest spots, causing friction like fire in your belly, and you never wanted it to stop.

He could fuck you in front of your entire high school reunion right now, and you wouldn’t care.

So that would be a one way ticket to Hell then.

'Fuck, you’re tight and wet for me, baby. Still cumming?’ His voice was a little less refined, a little less controlled, but under the circumstances, and with the way his sinful hips were slamming into you, you weren’t surprised. You couldn’t even reply with words, just a throat groan as he reared back, lifting your legs to drive into you deeper, harder and…

You came, again, squeezing him tightly in your body and his black eyes faded back to green, his expression pure pleasure as he dipped his mouth to clash with yours. His tongue mimicked his cock, thrusting into you with wild abandon, the taste of him rich on your tongue. You wanted to feel him, more than the strokes of his hard length into your cunt; you _needed_ to feel him cum, feel that warmth inside your body, that satisfaction of his peak.

Dean growled against your lips, tearing them away before sinking his teeth into your neck. The feel of the bite sent a jolt through you, and you convulsed around him, a primal cry of ecstasy ripping from your throat as he shuddered and came, pumping long ropes of spunk into your clutching pussy, and your body went lax, completely spent.

He let go of your neck, and you felt his saliva cooling on your skin as he pulled away, withdrawing from your spent body. Exhaustion filled your every fibre and you let your eyes shut, darkness claiming you with one final vision of Dean and his pitch black eyes.

*****

Warm sunshine on your face woke you, and you blinked, bringing your hands to your face to rub at your eyes. With a groan, you rolled over, checking the clock. It was just past eight in the morning, and it took you about two and a half seconds to decide not to move.

What exactly did you do last night?

Flashes came back to you; the card with the red writing, the hallway, the girl at the booth and… _Dean_. The man with the blackened eyes. His touch, his skin, his cock fucking you on the stage – you couldn’t remember it. It was tiny snippets of memory that didn’t make sense.

How did you get home?

Pulling the covers off, you swung your legs around to the floor, seeing you were still in your red dress. The makeup you’d worn was smudged, and the delicious pounding in your core told you that yes, you’d had sex last night and it had been _good_.

Your phone. Where was it? Maybe Josie could provide answers, seeing as she’d given you the damn card in the first place. You spotted your purse on the nightstand, and rifled through it, finding your cell quickly. You unlocked the screen, and frowned at the messages on there.

The first one was from Josie.

_Hope you had fun last night. You definitely made an impression on Mr Cain._

You didn’t even know he’d been there. Had you met him? What the fuck had happened?

The second message was from an unknown number, and you opened it with a frown, your heart racing as you read the contents.

_I knew you’d be perfect. I’m willing to sponsor your membership if you want to come again. Just reply to this message. Meg got you home safe, but if you ever need anything, just call. Dean._

It was all real. Dean was real. Your heart thundered, and you could feel a nervous sweat coming on, as you saved the number to your phone. The other messages were from your friends, just checking in, and one from your mother asking if you were coming to dinner on Sunday. But you couldn’t think straight to answer them.

Pressing on Dean’s number, you hesitated before pressing the green dial button. After three rings, he picked up, and you could hear the smile on his face.

'Y/N. Need something?’

You took a breath, steeling yourself for a future you’d never anticipated. 'Yeah. You.’


End file.
